Cranes
by WhiteLadyDragon
Summary: One evening, Mogi and Misa bond over origami.


_**Disclaimer! **_**All fictional entities featured/ mentioned in this segment belong to Tsugumi Ohba and Takeshi Obata.**

**I'll be out of town for about two weeks; until then, here's a parting gift to you readers out there. Takes place during the Mello and Near arc. **

_**CRANES**_

He first took up the art of folding paper as a freshly humbled teenage boy recovering from a fractured ankle; it would be a while before he could put weight on it again, never mind kick any footballs with it, and he needed something to ward off impending cabin fever. His mother was, as far as he was concerned, a master at origami, often seen in her spare time folding the colorful sheets into intricate shapes and figures, though he himself hadn't had much interest in it until he found himself in a hospital bed after that last game. She had come to see him, fondly admitting to him that she was in the process of folding a football, "just for you, in honor of your heroic victory."

As expected in most hospitals, nothing good had been on TV, and his fingers had twitched with restlessness and the dull, throbbing pain shooting up his leg. Unfortunately, his next dose of pain killers would not be for another hour or so, despite his polite requests to the nurse to have it sooner. Taking a deep breath, he asked, "Mom…could I have a few sheets of paper?"

The smile on her creased face almost looked as though she'd been waiting for her son's whole life for the day he would express interest in her craft, but nevertheless passed him a stack of fragile origami paper without a word. His fingers, thick and inexperienced, fumbled the first several times, even with his mother's gentle guidance, and some of his "figures" had come undone halfway through the process. Yet the caress of the paper against his fingertips had somehow managed to help take his mind for the most part, off the pain, and off the clock ticking what he had thought was too slowly on the wall. Ever after, he was by no means an artisan on the craft like his mother, but origami became one of his private hobbies, something that helped him to relax and at the same time re-focus.

Fast forward almost twenty years, and many interests have entered—and exited—Mogi's life since then, but on the occasional break, he would pull out a few scraps of paper he saved in his desk or wallet and fold them into different shapes, objects, animals, whatever would be the first thing on his mind. He generally keeps these small-scale works to himself, whether hiding them in desk drawers, lining them up along book shelves, or hanging them from the ceiling at his house.

But this is not his house. It's Light's. Light's and Misa's apartment. Someone had needed to keep an eye on Misa while the others dealt with these new entanglements with Mello and Near, and, just like in the old days, he had been appointed for the job. It was either him or Aizawa, and according to Misa, the latter hadn't been cute enough for her since getting that haircut. Mogi didn't admit it out loud (for the sake of preventing a fight between the two men), but Misa's sense of humor almost made him burst out laughing, a rarity these days.

"What'cha doing, Mochi?"

He looks up from the table to see Misa sitting across from him with her legs crossed, chin resting on her hands with a playful smile on her lips to mask her boredom and loneliness. "Is that origami, or is Misa mistaken?"

His fingers pause in mid-crease, hovering over his half-finished gold crane. A classic. Having been so concentrated on his art up until this abrupt interruption, it takes him longer to process Misa's words. He blinks to re-focus. "Hm? No, you're not mistaken."

"Misa didn't know Mochi was into origami. Then again, Mochi keeps so much to himself, it's almost worrying. Is something the matter, Mochi?"

"Erm, no, but thank you for asking."

Misa wasn't exactly bad company, once he got to know her. She was talkative and needed constant stimulation and the occasional reassurance that this dress or those pants looked good on her and no, people wouldn't find it strange that a man was living with her who was not her boyfriend and said boyfriend wouldn't mind, either, but beyond that, she was pleasant to be around. She could flap her lips on just about anything. If it interested her, that is.

She was almost like a puppy, really: inquisitive, energetic, capable of mischief yet innocent at the same time, and attention-hungry.

Hungry…

His gaze darts towards the clock ticking away above the sink. Six thirty-five.

Nuts. He still has yet to start dinner for the two of them. Living with Misa as her bodyguard has given him the opportunity to experiment with various recipes. As a detective working with the others, the men couldn't afford the time or energy for much more than microwave dinners, take-outs, and leftovers from the day before, if any.

"Oh."

He places the paper crane aside and pushes himself onto his feet. "I'm sorry, Misa. It just occurred to me that I haven't cooked dinner, yet. I'll get started on that right aw—"

"That's okay, Mochi! You don't have to cook, now. Misa's not that hungry, right now. It would be a shame to be presented Mochi's yummy food and not even have the appetite for it, after all the work he put into it."

Mogi quirks an eyebrow. Misa is an idol and she does worry about her weight, despite being so thin and dainty, anyway. "Are you sure you're not hungry?"

She giggles back, "Sure as the nose on Misa's face. How about you? You looked so focused on your origami, Misa wouldn't think you were that hungry yourself…hey, can Misa have some paper? Misa would like to fold, too!"

Having grown accustomed to her ever-changing whims, Mogi slowly passes a stack of ornate paper across the table. "Uh…sure. Help yourself."

"You know, you're really good at this!"

"Thank you. I…learned from the best."

No one would think that someone like her could fit the profile of a deranged serial killer. There's no way such small, nimble hands could take the lives of all those people. He notices the way she folds the paper into intricate shapes differs greatly from his method. His folding is slow and deliberate, while hers is brisk and spontaneous, almost as though it were second nature to her, like breathing. Or writing.

_Writing down names of criminals from all over the world, and maybe a few officers, too. Like Ukita. _

Mogi blinks. How could it be? Sure, the physical evidence was there, and the coincidences that seemed a bit convenient to be just coincidences. But what about the profile? Misa supported Kira because he had avenged her parents. But when did supporting a criminal automatically incriminate someone, especially with the mass numbers of supporters Kira had? Besides, if she truly were the Second Kira, wouldn't they all be dead by now for trying to catch Kira? As far as he knew, Misa had been nothing but supportive of Light's investigation against him (well, she expressed her support for Light, mostly, but the others would get encouragement for association).

Unless she was behind Light as much as she was because…

No. Mogi doesn't want to think about it. The Chief had said on his deathbed that Light wasn't Kira and had never been Kira. After all of those years of doubt and heartache, he had gotten to die at peace with his son's innocence.

Why couldn't the rest of them have this peace of mind, too?

"Hey, Mochi. You've heard about the legend, haven't you?" By now, Misa has four cranes of different colors scattered in front of her, and is halfway through the fifth. The tip of her tongue protrudes ever so slightly from her lips as she concentrates.

"Huh?"

"The legend! You know, of the paper cranes? They say that if you can fold a thousand paper cranes, you'll be granted a wish."

"Oh, that. Yes, I've heard about that." Most Japanese people like him and Misa would have heard about that myth. The number of people who actually believe it…that's a different matter.

"Do you believe in it, Mochi?" the girl asks with an earnest twinkle in her honey eyes.

Mogi scratches the back of his head, a bit sheepishly for him. It isn't every day that he gets asked about his stance on fanciful things like this. "Well, I…not really. Then again, I haven't exactly gotten around to folding a thousand paper cranes, yet…"

"Well, Misa believes in the legend! I've been folding cranes since I was, um, seven, eight, I think?" she guesses, stopping to count off of her fingers. "Misa hasn't reached a thousand, yet. Two…three hundred, maybe? Misa has lost count. Misa has moved around so much since then, she might have lost some of them along the way, and when Misa got more and more famous, her mind was distracted with other things…"

_I'll bet you have. How do you do it, Misa? How do you stay so optimistic after all the things you've seen…? _

"Since Light took over the investigation, Misa's taken up folding cranes again in her spare time. I don't know if all those lost cranes count, maybe I should make up for them? How many cranes have you folded, Mochi?" Placing her newest crane aside—red, this time—she announces proudly, "157! Misa's going to hang these up in our bedroom. That's where the other ones are. They're scattered all over the place; it probably bugs Light to have all these cranes around, he's so neat and clean. But he lets me keep them around because it makes Misa happy…"

Come to think of it, ever since the Chief's death, Light hasn't so much as stepped foot in the apartment he shares with Misa, has he? He could be drowning his grief by working; after all, when L died, they didn't waste much time mourning his or Watari's deaths. They couldn't afford to, said Light. They would avenge them, and all of the victims, by catching Kira. These days, Misa would stop by to deliver treats for Matsuda, the eternal errand-boy with the hidden sharp shot, to take to Light, "to cheer him up, because that's what almost-married couples do for each other," but that's the most contact the two have had.

He wonders if Light knows that he and Aizawa are suspicious of him again? He can't possibly know about Aizawa's meeting with N. No one has told him…as far as he knows.

He wonders if that has anything to do with why Light's been ignoring Misa? If that has anything to do with why he's been distant from his own mother and sister, for that matter, when he feels that they need him the most?

Or could it be because of Takada? He has yet to get all of the details, but apparently one of Light's old flames from college has been chosen as the new spokesperson for Kira, following Demegawa's undignified death on live broadcast. Maybe Takada may be of help towards finding Kira?

What is Light—or L—planning to do regarding her?

Considering their history, whatever it is, he's certain that Misa will not be pleased. But she doesn't know, yet (or if she has so much as an inkling, she hides it well). They've been keeping her on a strict need-to-know basis, as in, she must know as little as possible. She doesn't even know the real reason Mogi has been staying with her all this time beyond "protecting her from Kira fanatics that might retaliate for the task force's anti-Kira efforts."

Mogi isn't sure he'd like to be the one to break it to her, if Light starts seeing Takada.

"I'm not sure. I don't really keep track of that. I tend to fold different shapes besides cranes…"

"Well, hey, how about Mochi and Misa work together? With our combined talents, we'll reach a thousand in no time! What else is there to do, anyway?" Misa claps her hands in delight before getting to work on a thin teal sheet of paper, not hesitating to get Mogi's answer. "So Mochi, is there something that you've always wished for?"

…

"Maybe…a few things."

_I wish that Kira could stop for just one minute and really think about what he's doing. I wish that we didn't have it hanging over our heads that more people die, the longer we let Kira go. I wish that Ukita and the Chief were still here with us. I wish we could believe in what he said about Light's innocence. _

_Misa, I wish that you weren't the Second Kira. Hanging out with you is almost enough to forget, sometimes. _

He places another crane to the side, one that he had created almost absentmindedly.

Like him, Misa doesn't share her wishes, either. How she wishes that there was some way that L and Kira could compromise (after all, she's not supposed to root for both sides, right?) How she wishes that her parents could still be alive so they could be a complete family again, and so they could meet the brilliant man who would become their brilliant son-in-law (whenever that may be) so they won't have to worry about their little girl anymore. How she wishes that Light could be home more often, and that there was something more that she could do to help him. How she wishes that she didn't have that awful knotty feeling in her gut she's had since seeing Takada's ice-smooth face while channel-surfing, without the ability (or perhaps willingness) to explain it.

So many, so many wishes…

Misa suddenly cracks a grin. "Misa would make it easy and just wish for all of our wishes to come true!"

"Huh? For all of them to come true?"

"Yeah! That counts as one big wish, doesn't it?"

"Hm, I never thought of it that way." Perhaps because that sounds rather greedy to him. No powers that be would grant all the wishes of one person.

Would they?

Misa pouts. "Misa doesn't see why it wouldn't work that way. We have to fold a thousand paper cranes, after all! That's a lot of work for one teeny-tiny wish," she informs Mogi like he isn't already aware of this.

"Takes more effort than tossing coins into a fountain, that's for sure."

_And less effort than killing a thousand people with a notebook. _

The pair sit in a concentrated silence for who's counting how long, filling up the tabletop with clusters of ornate birds with hope in every crease (most of them are Misa's, since she is faster). By the time Mogi notices the clock again, it's seven-fifteen.

"Hey, Misa, it's getting late. You must be feeling pekish, by now. I'm feeling kind of hungry, myself," he says as he rises from his seat again.

Misa gives him her blessings with a cavalier wave of her hand. "Oh, you go on ahead! Misa will pick up the slack; she's got all the time in the world!"

Mogi nods, a small, dubious-feeling smile curling the corners of his lips as he goes to the sink to wash his hands and don his apron (the pink one that Misa had bought him for his birthday). When Misa asks if he needs help tying the back, he politely declines, somehow finding it hard to maintain eye contact with her.

All his life, he'd been raised with the belief that one can wish all he wants, but to make a wish come true, he must work towards making it real. And as enjoyable as origami is, folding a bunch of cranes isn't generally considered the first choice of action, not in this day and age.

But are there some wishes that can't come true, no matter what?

_**END**_


End file.
